


needy

by curiousair



Series: needy [1]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), BDSM, Barebacking, Bottom Richie Tozier, Choking, Dacryphilia, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, I'm serious when I say this is like 95 percent sex, Impact Play, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Richie Tozier Cries During Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, Verbal Humiliation, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:01:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25237348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiousair/pseuds/curiousair
Summary: "I want you to fuck me up."
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: needy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912102
Comments: 20
Kudos: 311





	needy

**Author's Note:**

> listen this is all porn and a lot of it is just my weird fantasy about wanting to fuck a gay fictional character.
> 
> obviously the title is referencing the ariana grande song

Living apart is hard, but it’s always worth it when they finally get to see each other. 

Even the days leading up to it, it’s all they can talk about. Eddie lets Richie ramble on, talking in circles. He likes hearing his voice, even if it’s nonsense. It’s been almost two years and Eddie still isn’t sick of the way Richie will forget what he’s talking about mid-sentence. 

“Hmm. I don’t remember,” Richie says, his voice soft and tired. “Must not have been that important. Anyway, I can’t wait to see you.”

“Two days,” Eddie says, climbing into bed. He props his phone up on the side table and lies on his side, watching Richie roll over in his own bed cities away. Two days seems like a fucking lifetime.

"I don't know if I can manage two days. If _someone_ let me move in, I wouldn't have to constantly get used to leaving and not seeing you for weeks."

"Well, if _someone_ had any control over the situation, they'd make it so you could transfer here sooner."

"It's only two hours away. I can commute for a year.”

“‘Only two hours away,’” Eddie repeats. “Every day for a _year_? You hate waking up early. You'd be late every single day.”

Richie grins. “I know. But I'll suck it up if it means I get to wake up next to you every day."

He’s a sap, and Eddie loves him for it. “You’re trying to butter me up and it’s not going to work.”

“I just can’t stand to be away from you.” Richie used to be more subtle about playing coy to get what he wants. Now, he literally bats his eyelashes, sticks out his lip, and pouts. When Eddie doesn’t respond immediately, Richie drops the act. “Hey, turn your fucking light on dude. I can’t tell if my cute, pouty face is changing your mind.”

Eddie laughs, sitting up to turn on his lamp. He squints, picking up his phone to bring it closer to his face. “Better, _dude_?”

“Much better,” Richie says, then continues on pretending to whine. “I’m just saying that it sucks that I only get to see you every month for a few days at a time. I miss you.”

"I know. I miss you too." Eddie can see him closer now, stretched out on his side with tousled hair and a persistent pout. “What’s with the t-shirt?”

“It’s cold here,” Richie says. “I can always drive up there early so you can warm me up.”

Eddie grins. “You’re insufferable.”

They go quiet, just smiling fondly at each other. Richie might be cheesy and needy but Eddie would do anything for him. They’re head over heels in love and there’s no logical reason why Eddie constantly feels the need to win him over, but making Richie happy is his number one priority. Unfortunately, Richie knows this. And he knows that if he’s persistent enough, Eddie will add Richie to his lease and get up at 4 AM every day just to make sure Richie wakes up in time to get to work.

"Now, get your tits out for me."

Eddie says it to be funny (for the most part—he _does_ love to see Richie semi-naked, doing casual things), but Richie just hums and bunches his shirt up over his collarbones. 

"Okay, now what?" Richie asks, with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Um, I don’t know, play with your nipples?" Eddie scoffs. It’s incredulous and borderline sardonic, as Eddie tends to be. 

The thing is though, Richie follows the request without a second thought. 

Eddie blinks, taking in the sight. "Wait, are we really doing this?"

"Shh, I’m horny," Richie says, tweaking a nipple between his fingers. "Don't ruin it."

Richie slides his hand up and down his hairy chest, squeezing at the soft swell of his pecs and dragging his thumb over his hard nipples. 

And Eddie just watches, acutely aware that his dick is already starting to fatten up in his boxers.

They've had phone sex before, it's inevitable in a long distance relationship. But it's usually very brief, very run-of-the-mill 'what are you wearing'/'wish I could touch you'/’need to get off right this second’ type of phone sex. This feels different, a little more illicit than what Eddie is used to. It isn’t that Eddie is completely vanilla—he’s with _Richie_ , after all—but, this is... _something_.

"Talk to me, babe," Richie tells him. He slides his hand lower, along the hair on his belly, until it's under his waistband, out of Eddie's view. "Tell me what’s on your mind."

A million things come to Eddie’s mind at once, visions of them licking, sucking, and grinding. 

“I-” Eddie starts, then gets choked up thinking about his lips on every single inch of Richie’s body, teasingly slow, watching Richie tremble in his hands. "I wanna make you come."

“C’mon, babe you can get a little filthier than that,” Richie teases. “I’ve heard it before.”

Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, when Eddie can’t filter his most depraved thoughts and fantasies, things slip out. But now that Richie is explicitly asking for it, Eddie’s mind is blank.

Richie speaks around a breathy moan, still moving his hand at a steady pace. “Tell me what you want to see.” 

Eddie takes a breath, shuts his brain off, and goes with his gut instinct. "Get naked,” he says and Richie does, not missing a beat before pulling off his shirt and shimmying out of his boxers. 

“I like it when you tell me what to do,” Richie says, lying down on his side.

"Let me see you…,” Eddie tells him, hypnotized by the steady movement of Richie's finger on his nipple. “I want to see you touch yourself. I love how you look when you’re getting yourself off."

Richie shifts back on his bed, giving Eddie a better view—his dick is in his hand, fully hard. If Richie knows how to do one thing well, it’s put on a show. He plants his feet on the mattress, bucks his hips and slides his fist down to the base of his dick, making himself moan.

“Slower,” Eddie tells him, finally reaching down under his waistband to palm himself. He’s rock hard, leaking, wishing he wasn’t hundreds of miles away. Richie does as he’s told, slowing down enough to make himself squirm. It gives Eddie chills, watching Richie tease himself into near madness after just a few seconds. He thrusts into his hand, rolling his thumb over the wet head of his dick, panting and whining. And Eddie knows half of it is for show—if Richie wanted to get off quickly and quietly, he would. (Eddie has seen it with his own eyes—they were in bed, Richie was keyed up, but Eddie was exhausted and a little drunk, so all he could do was sleepily tease Richie about being an insatiable horndog. Richie brought himself to orgasm in about 60 seconds, and still claims that it’s the hardest he’s ever come in his entire 32 years of life.)

“I’m gonna come soon, babe.”

“Wait,” Eddie breathes. A shiver runs up his spine when Richie follows instructions without a word. “Finger yourself. I want to see you open and wet for me.”

Richie reaches for something out of frame. “I have this. But it’s not as good as you.” He holds a sizable blue plug in front of the camera, turning it over in his hand. 

“Show me,” Eddie says and like some kind of sex-deprived heathen, his mouth literally starts to fucking water. 

Richie positions himself against the wall, not shy about spreading his legs for the camera. As always, he’s generous with lube, pouring enough to coat the two fingers pressing at his rim and the hand stroking his dick steadily. He’s impatient as he presses his fingers in, his knee bouncing, lip between his teeth. 

“Slow down.”

Richie does, huffing out a breath and slowing his movements, curling and twisting his fingers. As he works the toy inside, he whines and tosses his head back against the wall. There’s tension in his exposed throat and his chest heaves with his labored breaths. “Fuck, I miss you.”

Eddie fists his dick and imagines himself buried deep inside of him, tight and wet. “God, you look so sexy like this.”

Richie relaxes, letting his eyes flutter closed, grinding down onto the toy. 

“Turn around for me,” Eddie breathes, and Richie is moving before he even gets all the words out. 

He gets on his knees, props himself up on one forearm, and reaches the other hand behind him to keep fucking himself. He looks obscene, face down, ass up, arching his back to press the toy deeper, craning his neck to look at his screen.

Eddie tightens his hand around his dick, watching the lube drip down Richie’s thigh. He can’t decide what he wants more, Richie clenching around him or to eat him out until he’s impossibly wet, dripping and relaxed. “Fuck." He’s close, letting himself ramble. "I can't wait to taste you. Can't wait until you're shaking under my tongue...I can’t wait until I'm inside you, fucking you with your face pressed into the mattress.”

“I want- god, I want-,” Richie thrusts the toy inside himself with messy movements. “Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you want."

Richie rolls over onto his side, dropping one hand to his dick. His voice is strained, peppered with moans. “I want you to fuck me up.” 

Eddie can't quite come up with a mental image for that one, but the implication is enough. Richie, completely pliant under him, flushed...maybe a little teary. It's enough to get his heart pounding, his face burning, and muscles tightening with his impending release.

Richie lies flat on his back, bringing one hand between his spread legs to press the plug deeper and the other working his cock. He turns his head towards the camera and moans, "I'm all yours babe.”

Eddie comes so hard, he swears he stops breathing for a minute. 

xxx

When Richie walks into Eddie’s apartment, he puts his bag down and they get all the mushy stuff out of the way quickly. Then, Eddie leads him to the couch, shoves him onto his back, and kneels between his legs. Richie goes down easily, an amused smile playing on his lips as Eddie wastes no time getting their dicks out. He holds his left palm out in front of Richie’s face and Richie props himself up on his elbows, grinning. “Really? You're not allowed to complain about it later-” 

Eddie rolls his eyes, only _slightly_ annoyed. Yeah, so he’s impatient. He’s only been waiting to get his hands on Richie for an entire month. He also spent an agonizing 24 hours without touching himself, only because Richie said he was doing it and Eddie wanted to match his energy. “Don’t make me change my mind.” 

Richie takes Eddie’s hand and drags the flat of his tongue over it, making sure to suck Eddie’s fingers into his mouth for good measure. Eddie isn’t particularly a fan of this, but he knows Richie loves disgusting shit like this and Eddie loves when Richie loves the things they do, so... when in Rome, Eddie supposes. With that in mind, Eddie rucks Richie’s shirt up over his belly, spits into his right hand, and goes to town.

Richie hisses and thrusts into Eddie’s fist. “Ah, fuck- you’re so thoughtful, I love you.”

“Love you too,” Eddie says, laser-focused on using his left hand to get himself off. Richie is already halfway there, panting, wrapping his legs around Eddie’s waist. He lifts his shirt up more, dragging a rough hand up his belly to squeeze his pecs, trapping his nipple between his fingers. 

Being able to feel Richie, the way his body moves with each elongated sigh and stuttered moan, brings Eddie over the edge quickly. Eddie wills himself to stay upright for just a little longer and puts both hands on Richie, one on top of the other. With a few lazy strokes, Richie collapses onto his back, shuddering.

When they see each other, there's no such thing as taking their time. They're always so eager to touch and make the other feel good that they always finish fast. It's a blessing and a curse--it means everything is always impassioned and insanely sexy, but also means that it's usually messy and over before they want it to be. (Eddie maintains that he's always been one to come fast, refusing to let Richie know just how much of an effect he has. This is only because Richie would get a big head about it and tease him about it until the end of time. Richie, on the other hand, is less reserved. After the first time they had sex, he boldly proclaimed: "No one has _ever_ fucked me like that!" He brings it up every time Eddie makes him come undone within seconds.) 

In the bathroom, as Richie is taking off his shirt to use as a makeshift 'jizz-rag' (his words, not Eddie's), Eddie remembers something. 

“So, what exactly do you mean when you say you want me to fuck you up?” 

"Um." Richie balls the shirt up and puts it in the laundry hamper. He looks at Eddie, sheepishly, and seems to think before he speaks, which is rare. “I- want you to be more dominant.” 

“More dominant? Uh, what?" Eddie considers this for a moment, what this actually fucking _means_ for them, as he washes his hands. "Meaning…you want to be submissive? Like, for real?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s not like it’s a reach," Richie mumbles. He crosses and uncrosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. "I already do whatever you want anyway.” 

“Yeah, but not in bed. That’s different-" Eddie stops, noticing disappointment flash in Richie's eyes. "Hey, wait. I’m not ruling it out. I’m just curious. Have you thought about this a lot?” 

“Yes-" Richie goes all red and turns away, looking at their reflection in the mirror. "Fuck, don’t look at me like that, jesus christ. I already feel like a pervert, which kind of turns me on, which only makes me feel _more_ like a pervert-” 

“Hey, I'm not- I wasn't- let’s not be weird about it.” Eddie puts a hand on Richie's shoulder and turns him back around. “It’s fine, I’m just asking.” 

"Can I at least put a shirt on for this conversation?” Richie huffs, stepping into the bedroom. “I feel like you can see my soul and all my nasty ass thoughts." He opens up Eddie’s bottom drawer, pulls out the oldest t-shirt he can find, and puts it on. It’s essentially a crop top on him, but he’s preoccupied by suddenly being a big ball of nervous energy that he doesn’t notice.

"That looks great on you," Eddie comments, hoping it soothes him a little, and sits them on the edge of his bed. "Alright, now, talk to me."

"So, okay... there's a lot of stuff-" Richie stops himself and groans. "Ugh, you know what, actually nevermind, it's too weird." He stands up and within a few strides, he and his stupidly long legs are halfway across the room.

"Hey, no-" Eddie follows him, grabs his wrist and pulls him back to the bed. Then he brings a hand to Richie's jaw, forcing him to make eye contact. "Look at me. Sit down, and talk to me."

Richie bites down on his lip, lets out an _interesting_ mix between a sigh and a whimper, and sits down.

Eddie frowns. “What is it?”

Richie unzips his jeans, guides Eddie’s hand back under the waistband of his boxers, and rests it against his half-hard dick. Eddie follows along, confused, but generally trusting of Richie and his motives. Richie looks at him, intently, and nudges his face into Eddie's palm. After a few seconds, Eddie gets the hint and tightens his grip on Richie’s jaw. Richie’s dick pulsates and jumps under his hand. 

“ _Oh_.” 

“Is it weird that I can’t stop thinking about you, like… bossing me around, being a little rough, and doing what you want with me?” Richie asks, gasping when Eddie slides his palm up the length of his dick. “It’s okay if you think it’s super fucking weird. I’ll repress it and never bring it up again.”

“No,” Eddie answers, immediately. He’s hot suddenly, the back of his neck prickling with sweat. "That's not weird." 

Before Eddie met Richie, he thought he had a good understanding of what he liked and what he absolutely hated, even if he hadn’t tried it. But, on their first date, Richie gave him a blowjob in the car, which Eddie had previously thought he’d never do and honestly, it was a slippery slope from then on. They’ve done kinky things by Eddie's standards, some light hair pulling and some spanking every now and then. This _new_ thing though...seems a little different. The simple fact that Richie is nervous, asking if it's weird—that he's asking at all and not just springing it on Eddie in the heat of the moment (like the time he put Eddie's toes in his mouth and Eddie literally screamed and kicked him in the chin)—makes it different.

Richie blinks, surprised. “No?” 

“No,” Eddie repeats, palming Richie’s dick lazily, with no rhythm or purpose. “What else do you think about?” 

Richie takes a breath and finally releases his lower lip from between his teeth. “Well, I really like the idea of being choked?" He looks down at Eddie’s hand and then back up again, studying Eddie's expression with wide, unsure eyes. "And, maybe, if you want to... hold me down? Kind of, like, manhandle me?” 

“Okay,” Eddie says, simply. He’s wrapping his head around this new idea. It might take a bit for him to process it, considering all the blood has left his brain.

“Okay?” Richie asks, leaning back on his elbows. His shoulders relax as Eddie continues to touch him. "Are you sure?"

“Yeah," Eddie says, and leaves it at that. 

Richie nods, quiet for an impressive thirty seconds before starting to ramble. “We don’t have to do everything at once, like, nothing too crazy if you don’t want to. It's also cool if you're not into it at all-” 

“Relax,” Eddie says, getting on his knees between Richie’s legs. “I’ll take care of you.”

xxx 

Richie always takes his glasses off and gets naked first, excited to get things going. One of these days, they’ll attempt to be _sensual_ and pretend as though they have all the time in the world. But as it is, they have two more days to get over a month's worth of pent up sexual frustration out of their system. 

With that being clear, Eddie strips down to his boxers and gets his mouth on Richie before he even has to ask. Richie opens his legs and Eddie spreads them wider, gripping the insides of his thighs. He's always loud when Eddie eats him out, whimpering and babbling nonsense. He twitches against Eddie's mouth, wiggling every time Eddie lightly traces the tip of his tongue along his rim.

"You know that drives me fucking crazy," he breathes, combing his fingers through Eddie's hair.

Eddie grins and holds him tighter, keeping him in place as he licks him fully. Every time Richie keens and rolls his hips, Eddie applies more pressure with his tongue and holds his thighs with more force. 

The moment Eddie releases him, Richie puts his legs over Eddie's shoulders, squeezing Eddie's head between his thighs. "Oh thank god, I thought you were never going to stop. I thought you were trying to kill me. Death by rimming."

"Sorry," Eddie says, though they both know he isn't sorry at all. He pries Richie's legs open and kisses along his inner thigh, then he sits up, slotting himself between Richie’s legs. Richie smiles up at him, his eyes shining with anticipation. Eddie leans over and kisses him, short and chaste, before working his way down. When he gets to Richie's hips, Richie shivers and starts to bring a hand to his dick. "So, maybe, um," Eddie says, into Richie's skin, "Don't touch yourself?" 

And Richie starts to laugh, making no attempts to stifle it.

Eddie whips his head up and frowns at him. "What's so fucking funny?" 

Richie laughs harder, because he's an asshole. "That sounded so weird."

"Shut up, I know that," Eddie chuckles. Richie's laugh is infectious, even when he's being a jackass. "Just— tell me what I did wrong."

"It's not hot if you’re unsure, dude-" 

"You can't call me dude when my mouth is this close to your dick-"

"You have to like, _tell_ me what you want me to do or just fucking do it-" 

"Got it," Eddie says, growing hotter. He gently takes hold of Richie's hands, pulling them away from his dick and Richie relaxes. Eddie ducks his head and kisses Richie's belly, along the soft hair on his navel. "You can be quiet now...Unless you hate what I'm doing, which in that case please tell me."

"You're not going to hurt me, I know that." Richie sighs, squeezing Eddie’s hand. "So, you don't have to treat me like I'm made of paper."

Eddie’s heart races as he repositions himself to sit on top of Richie’s thighs, squeezing his knees against Richie’s hips. Richie, sensing Eddie’s apprehensiveness, gives him a reassuring smile. Tentatively, Eddie grabs Richie’s wrists and presses them firmly to the mattress, gauging his reaction. Richie stares back at him and shifts his wrists and hips, testing how much he can move. “Oh,” he says, and they seem to simultaneously realize that he’s essentially immobile under Eddie’s weight. Eddie echoes him, feeling such a fierce, unbelievable rush it literally makes him dizzy. 

As Eddie places open-mouthed kisses to Richie’s hips, up the center of his belly, and the dip between his pecs, he thinks about how he could do this forever. Teasing, flicking his tongue over Richie's nipples before mouthing and sucking fully, nibbling just enough to get Richie writhing underneath him. Eddie can feel the moan hum through Richie’s chest, and a warm satisfaction washes over him every time Richie tries to lift his hips, searching for any friction he can get for his neglected dick. Every time Richie moves, Eddie tightens his grip on his wrists and Richie makes the most beautiful, desperate sounds in response. Torn between torturing him more and kissing the adorable pout off of his face, Eddie decides on something in between. He presses them closer, chest to chest, letting the hard length of Richie’s dick slide against his belly, and leans in for a kiss. Then, just as their lips are barely touching, Eddie stops. 

Richie stares at him, wide-eyed. “What?” 

“I have you,” Eddie whispers. Feeling Richie’s rapid pulse against his palm, Eddie tightens his grip even more, digging in his fingertips hard enough to bruise, and takes Richie’s lower lip between his teeth. He tugs, just once, and Richie comes across his belly with a staggered gasp.

He squeezes his eyes shut and Eddie watches in awe as he spasms through his orgasm. The moment his muscles relax, Richie opens his glazed over eyes and blurts out, "Need you inside me.”

Eddie sits up and lets him go, feeling surprisingly accomplished when he notices the marks he left behind. The red wrists, bite marks, and bruises blooming on Richie’s hairy chest. He looks completely fucked out already, half-lidded and loose. "You sure? I don’t need-" 

"I'm so fucking sure,” Richie says, cupping Eddie’s dick through his boxers.

Eddie wasn’t planning on taking _too_ long to consider, but Richie starts to beg anyway. "Please, I need you so much, babe, I feel like I'm on fire- fuck. Please fuck me." 

It should surprise Eddie how much he likes to hear Richie beg. It should concern him that the hunger in Richie’s eyes, the hushed _need_ in his voice, makes _him_ feel like he's on fire. It should be alarming that suddenly the thing he wants most in the world is to overstimulate Richie to the point of it _almost_ being too much. He thinks on it for a minute, reaching deep inside himself for any reason to feel weird about this, and finds nothing but his aching desire to give Richie what he wants.

Richie waits patiently, legs open, as Eddie gets naked and coats two of his fingers with lube. It’s for the sake of being polite, really—Richie always insists he doesn’t need it, and Eddie is quickly starting to realize why. He has two fingers inside Richie, barely past the first knuckles when Richie starts to keen and fidget impatiently, and it occurs to him that Richie might like a little pain. But, he concurrently remembers Richie’s request that he be _told_ what to do, rather than asked.

“Wait.” 

It’s one word, not even with any heat behind it, but Richie follows it like a demand. He drops his hands to his sides and goes still.

Eddie sits back on his heels, opens Richie's legs and revels in the tight heat as he presses into Richie slowly. He pauses to let Richie adjust, waiting for his breathing to even out, and Richie takes his hand, pulling him forward. Hesitantly, he places Eddie’s hand to his throat.

“Is that okay?” he asks.

Eddie brushes his thumb along the tendons of Richie’s throat, squeezing lightly with his fingers on the other side. “Is it okay for you?”

Richie smiles. “I can’t begin to explain how okay it feels.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop, babe,” Eddie says, starting to rock into him. “I won’t do anything you don’t want to do.” 

Richie nods, and crosses his wrists over his head. Once Eddie has one hand at Richie's throat and the other holding his wrists, he looks down at Richie’s placid expression and nearly fucking loses it. There’s no word to describe the thrill it gives Eddie to see Richie surrender so readily. Richie starts moving his hips, urging Eddie to speed up. Eddie holds Richie’s wrists tighter, keeping a mild pressure on his neck, and matches his thrusts with more intensity, the force pushing him up the bed. 

A weak cry tumbles from Richie’s lips. “ _Shit_. Yeah, yeah—just like that.”

Eddie repeats the movement, again and again, fucking him exactly the way he needs it. Each time Richie cries out, it spurs Eddie on even more—he lets his strokes get wilder, harder, and faster, mesmerized by Richie’s fluttering eyelids and choked moans. “You really like this, don’t you? You love when I’m holding you down and fucking the shit out of you.” 

Richie nods, his cheeks going red. "Fuck, yes. I love you so much."

Eddie kisses him, breathing hot and licking the roof of his mouth. "I love you, baby. You feel so amazing. I like this. I like that you can't move, that you're all mine." There’s a familiar heat building in him, growing hotter as he takes everything in. The obscene sounds of their bodies moving together, mixing with Richie’s labored breath on his neck. The way Richie clenches around the head of his dick and relaxes when Eddie buries himself deep, his thick, trembling thighs, his wrists twisting in Eddie's grip, and the wild pulse in his throat, pounding in Eddie's hand.

Panting, he pulls out carefully and slides a hand over his dick, pumping sloppily until he comes on Richie's chest. And Richie, pupils blown and still hard, just looks at Eddie and says: “Again.”

"You…,” Eddie starts, his voice low. “You are so fucking needy, aren’t you?”

Richie sucks his bottom into his mouth and somehow, his eyes darken even more.

For the first time all night, Eddie touches Richie’s dick, then slides two fingers back inside him. Richie exhales steadily, tugging at Eddie’s hair. 

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, with a kiss to his thigh. "That good?" 

"Sensitive…," Richie sighs. "Kind of sore, kind of feels really fucking amazing." 

Eddie presses deeper, curling his fingers in the way he knows will take Richie apart at the seams. "But you like that, I think. When there's a little bit of ache...so you know how hard you were fucked." 

Richie lets out a quiet cry when he comes for the second time, and immediately removes Eddie's fingers. "Oh, holy shit."

"That was fast," Eddie jibes, sliding off the bed. His legs are jelly and his skin is tingling, and he doesn't have to take a wild guess to imagine how Richie feels. "Are you done, or are you gonna ask me to get you off six more times tonight?" 

"Don't even—I'm only working at like 25 percent brain...power- or capacity?” Richie spreads out like a starfish on the bed. “My brain is broken and l can't move. You broke me. You're so hot, sometimes I can't believe you're the love of my life."

Eddie kisses Richie's forehead and goes to the bathroom to wash his hands. He comes back to the bed with a washcloth because he knows Richie will be out of order for at least nine hours. As expected, Richie does a half-assed job of cleaning himself up, puts his underwear back on, and throws the towel on the floor, promising to pick it up in the morning. 

After Eddie cleans up the mess and forces Richie to roll over long enough to throw a clean sheet over the bed, and turns off the light, they cuddle up under the duvet. 

"I love you," Eddie yawns, combing his fingers through Richie's tousled hair. "You sex fiend."

"I love you too," Richie says, pressed to Eddie's chest, sounding suspiciously awake. “Hey, so...there’s something else.” 

"In regards to?” 

"Me. Being a sex fiend."

"Oh. Okay. You can tell me now if you want." Eddie yawns again, closing his eyes. "Or, you can wait until tomorrow when I'm fully awake."

"I have to tell you now or else I'll stay up thinking about it all night."

Eddie places a reassuring hand on his back. "If you insist."

“I, well, I want to try being made fun of?" Richie says, tentatively. "I don’t think that’s the right way to put it.” 

“Like teased?" Eddie questions. "We always do that.” 

“Maybe not just made fun of. Like… um, humiliated? Degraded a little bit? Name calling?” 

Eddie opens his eyes, straining to see Richie's face in the dark. “Like what, babe?” 

“Like...slut.” 

Instantly, Eddie is wide awake, chills running through him. “Yeah?” 

“Yes.” Richie slots himself closer and Eddie feels his hard-on trapped in his boxers.

“Oh my god, you’re hard again just thinking about it.”

Richie groans and rolls onto his back. “I told you I’m a fucking pervert.” 

“Shh, stop that. You’re not.” Eddie pulls the waistband of Richie's boxers down under his balls and wraps a firm hand around him. It doesn't take much to get Richie panting—he's easy like that. “What else do you want? You can tell me.” 

"I want to beg more." 

"What do you want to beg for?" Eddie whispers, right against Richie's ear. "You want to beg for my dick? Beg to come?" 

"Everything. I want you to tell me no, I want you to tease me, make me really fucking want it." 

Eddie speeds up his hand and shuts his brain off, letting desire take over. "So, you want me to make you feel like a dirty slut? Like my little whore?" 

"Fuck, yes. I want you to just… use me. I want you to talk shit to me. I want you to fuck me so hard I cry.” 

“You want to cry for me, baby? You want to be embarassed by how much you need my cock? Want me to use you like my very own sex toy?” 

At that, Richie comes in Eddie's hand, his hips rising off the mattress. Literally a minute later, before Eddie even gets up, Richie is asleep.

Eddie goes to the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror and questions who the fuck he has become. After a quick existential crisis, he braces himself against the counter and jerks off. Then, he washes his hands for the 100th time, and gets back in bed, his mind swimming with thoughts of Richie crying for him. 

"Fuck," he groans, after staring at the ceiling for at least thirty minutes. He picks up his phone, turns the brightness down and, out of habit, opens up a private browser.

xxx

"Stop trying to convince me that turkey bacon is the same as normal bacon."

"When you cook, you get to choose," Eddie says from the stove. 

Richie is on fruit duty because he gets too distracted to be around an open flame. Also, he can't even make scrambled eggs without burning them.

"When I figure out your waffle maker, that's what we're having every time I come over." Richie snakes an arm around Eddie's waist, tucking his chin over Eddie's shoulder. Eddie breathes him in, smiling at the minty scent. (He uses Eddie's shampoo, not because he forgets his own but because he likes to take Eddie’s scent home with him.)

Eddie turns the stove off and opens the cupboard, still in Richie's grasp. "So, I did some research." 

"About?" 

Eddie turns in the embrace, holding two plates. "Your kinks." 

"Oh, you mean my weird, freaky sex needs?" Richie smirks and kisses Eddie's forehead. "What did you find?" 

"Well, it's normal. So, you're not a pervert." Last night, before Eddie fell asleep, he did have a _minor_ freak out about their lack of proper discussion or prep before jumping right into choking. It was hot, but once he let himself ruminate on how dangerous it can be, he scared the shit out of himself to be quite honest. Which isn't the slightest bit surprising. "But, we should probably go over some things." 

Richie piles his plate with turkey bacon, fruit, and nothing else, and sits next to Eddie at the table. Eddie opens his laptop, and an article featuring a list of kinks and BDSM terms displays on the screen.

"You wouldn't be my Eddie if you didn’t get needlessly anal about everything," Richie says, scanning the list. He takes a bite of a strawberry and then feeds the rest to Eddie, pointing out the word 'subspace' on the screen."What is that?" 

"Oh, I looked at this last night. Kind of scary," Eddie says, and opens his mouth for another strawberry. Richie gives him a chunk of cantaloupe instead, clearly not able to read Eddie's mind.

"Click the description," Richie tells him, and Eddie does. "Ooh, I like that. Think you can get me there?" 

"Maybe. I mean, I don't want to, like- I don't know. If it happens, it happens?" Eddie doesn't let himself dwell on it for too long—he’ll do that in his own time, when he’s having another _minor_ crisis about his sex life. "I read last night that I should do something nice for you afterward. Maybe a bath? Or something?" 

"A bubble bath?” Richie asks, mouth full of food. “Um fuck yes, dude I'm into that. Sign me up." 

"You gotta stop calling me dude." Eddie keeps his eyes on the screen and opens his mouth for another piece of fruit. Richie does give him a strawberry this time, but sticks the entire thing in his mouth, leaves and all. Eddie struggles to chew it, spitting out the leaves, and Richie laughs as if it's the funniest thing he's ever done. Giving his best glare (which isn't that great because Richie's smile always makes him smile), Eddie says, "You're a fucking menace."

Richie just grins and turns back to the screen, starting to point out all the things he's interested in. They go back and forth, going down the entire list.

“I like that. Do you?” 

“I like that too. What about that?” 

“Not so much. _This,_ on the other hand is hot as fuck.” 

“Noted. How do you feel about this?” 

“If we do that, I'll come in 30 seconds tops.” 

"This...we should look it up because I'm still confused," Eddie says, which ends with them searching for videos. 

It's oddly domestic, watching BDSM scenes with your partner over breakfast. 

On screen, there's someone crying as another person slaps them across the face in an almost clinical manner. Eddie looks at Richie, who seems...interested. "You need a safe word."

Richie purses his lips. "How about, uh...stop? Or, ouch? Or, don't fucking do that?"

"Seriously, Richie."

"I am being serious," Richie scoffs. "If you think I'm gonna remember something stupid like _banana ice cream_ or _red light_ while you're fucking me into oblivion, you're mistaken."

"Alright, we'll go with 'stop.' Tell me to stop and I'll stop and cuddle the hell out of you,” Eddie concedes. “If you want that."

“You know I would—wait, hold on." Richie goes to the living room and comes back with a pen and a sheet of paper. “So we remember everything, right?” 

Eddie puts a hand to his heart. "Aw, Richie. A list? I'm so proud of you." 

"Don't patronize me," Richie grumbles, writing the words 'yes' and 'no' at the top of the paper. 

In the ‘yes’ column, Richie writes edging/orgasm denial, dirty talk/humiliation, spitting, slapping, and spanking (which Eddie doesn’t mind giving or receiving, if he’s being honest), among other things they probably won’t get to in one, or even two nights. The 'no' column reads: blood, blindfolds, CBT, tickling, gross bathroom stuff, and, in parentheses, 'please don't call me a four-eyed bitch.' Eddie laughs, takes the pen, and adds: 'foot stuff.'

"One of these days…," Richie says, standing up. He opens the cupboard and takes down two glasses.

"Doubtful," Eddie replies, watching Eddie pour orange juice and two shots of vodka in each glass. "Are we day drinking?" 

"It's a screwdriver," Richie explains. He comes back to his seat and raises his glass. "Technically breakfast."

Eddie grins. "What are we toasting to?" 

"To...nasty, freaky, kinky sex," Richie says solemnly. 

Eddie picks up his glass and taps it to Richie's. "To nasty, freaky, kinky, sex." 

xxx

They start with Richie on his knees. Still. Patient. Waiting. 

“Want me to fuck your mouth?” Eddie asks, because it’s typical of them to go from 0 to 100 in mere seconds. He's also fighting against the strong need to touch him, even though Richie probably wouldn’t mind the delicious torture of having to wait.

“Please.” 

He keeps his hands in his lap, obedient as Eddie cups the back of his head. Eddie fits his dick into Richie’s mouth, stuffing his mouth full. Richie gags and closes his eyes, instinctively moving back, and Eddie stills in his mouth for a second, letting him adjust. Reveling in the feeling of his dick between Richie’s rough palate and smooth tongue, he holds Richie by the ears and starts pumping into his mouth shallowly. The muffled gagging noises lend to Eddie’s excitement, making him so hard he’s throbbing with arousal. Richie hollows his cheeks and blinks his eyes open, a few tears escaping the corners. Eddie groans, fisting both hands in Richie’s hair and pulls him off— Richie is teary-eyed and red-faced, his mouth wet and gasping.

“I wish you could see how you look right now, baby.” 

Richie reaches behind him and clumsily grabs Eddie’s phone from the bedside table, holding it out for Eddie to take. And Eddie thinks, _holy shit, I love this man so much_. He takes the phone and snaps two pictures, one of Richie staring up at him and one with his thumb pressed to Richie’s wet, swollen bottom lip.

“Look how fucked up you look already,” he says, showing Richie the pictures. Richie looks, and Eddie swears he sees a smile pull at the corner of his lips. He puts the phone down and tilts Richie’s chin up. “Open,” Eddie says, and Richie does, sticking the tip of his tongue out over his teeth. Eddie cups his jaw and spits into his mouth, then brings a hand to the back of his head, thrusting into his mouth. Richie’s mouth goes slack and the choked noises he makes when Eddie hits the back of his throat become even clearer. Eddie grabs him by the hair to pull him off, wraps a loose hand around Richie’s throat, and comes across his parted lips and waiting tongue. Lightheaded, Eddie takes another picture, keeping it from Richie’s view this time. “That one is for me,” he says, swiping a thumb over the mess on Richie’s lips before pressing it into his mouth. “Suck.” Mesmerized, Eddie does it again and Richie, the good boy he is, licks each one of Eddie’s fingers clean.

Eddie motions for Richie to stand and Richie stumbles to his feet, getting on his hands and knees on the bed. Taking a second to admire him, Eddie stands at his side and smooths a hand up the back of his thigh, over his ass and all the way up his back. 

Richie is unsteady with anticipation already, swaying as Eddie braces his left hand on Richie’s lower back. He starts slow, watching Richie’s face carefully, and slaps his ass once. It’s barely anything, but Richie inhales sharply and looks at Eddie, wordlessly asking Eddie for more. Eddie gives him what he wants, rearing back a little further before giving him a harder slap across one cheek. Richie drops his head and lets out a broken moan, then asks for another one, harder. With the next strike, Richie’s elbows buckle and he collapses beautifully onto his forearms. “More,” he breathes, arching his back.

“Put your hands behind your back for me,” Eddie says, practically vibrating with desire. Richie rests his cheek on the mattress and does as he’s told. It shouldn’t be this easy for Eddie to lean into this...but there’s something about the way Richie trusts him enough to let go. He holds Richie’s wrists with one hand, pausing to let Richie get used to the uncomfortable position, then swings his other hand back and gives Richie a full slap across both cheeks. A low, throaty sound falls from Richie’s lips, followed by a drawn out whine. Eddie keeps going, one after the other, spanking him until his hand stings, until Richie’s skin is red and warm to the touch, until Richie can do nothing but huff, hiss, and whimper at each strike. Richie twists his wrists in Eddie’s grasp and Eddie stops—Richie forces out a breath through his nose, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and his lip between his teeth. Eddie lets him go, smoothing a hand over the rising welts on his ass, giving him a moment to breathe.

Richie lays down flat on his belly, tucking an arm under his head, and he must sense Eddie’s next question because he mutters, “If you stop, I’ll literally kill you.”

Eddie chuckles and straddles the back of Richie’s thighs, giving his ass a few gentle smacks. He pours an excessive amount of lube between Richie’s spread cheeks and drags a wet thumb over his hole before working it inside. Richie huffs out a breath and Eddie moves his hand, sitting up on his knees to rub his dick between his Richie’s cheeks, purposely catching against his rim, back and forth with no particular rhythm. 

Then, he lifts Richie up by the hips, props a pillow under him, and drives into him all at once. He’s so fucking tight, clenching around Eddie’s dick, and Eddie steadies his breath, grinding against him. Richie starts to speak, but he loses his words when Eddie starts fucking him fast and rough, digging his nails into the soft flesh of his ass. The dirty talk comes easier to him like this, when he can feel Richie falling apart underneath him. “I want you to feel this even when you’re gone. Want you to miss how it feels to have my dick stretching you out and opening you up.” 

Richie cries out, breathy and high-pitched, moaning incoherently about how good Eddie feels. After what feels like a few short minutes, he slurs, "I'm gonna come.”

“Don’t.” Eddie stops with his hips flush to Richie’s ass. "I’m not done with you." He takes Richie’s elbows and folds his arms behind his back, then drapes himself over them to hold him in place, all while pistoning his hips. "You're fucking made for this, baby. I love how you open up around me. I love how you take all of me." With his cheek pressed into the mattress, Richie whines, his eyes rolling to the back of his head-- he’s drooling, writhing, and moaning so low that Eddie can feel it. Eddie lifts Richie’s hips up so he’s on his knees and forearms, keeping his diligent pace, not giving Richie a second to catch his breath. He brings Richie right to the edge, letting him tense up the way he does right before he comes, then stops abruptly, pulling out. 

With one hand in Richie’s hair, he lifts his head and says against the shell of his ear: “You came three times last night. You don’t get to come until I make up for that.” 

Richie all but collapses when Eddie releases him, and rolls over easily when Eddie moves him, flopping onto his back with his arms at his side. Eddie straddles his waist, places his hands on Richie’s shoulders and slides his dick between Richie’s pecs, taking delight in the fact that Richie squirms under him from this alone. "You want me so fucking bad, you desperate slut, you can’t even stay still." 

“I want you to keep fucking me, I never want you to stop— Please, I’ll do anything, babe.” 

"Aww, you’re already begging," Eddie coos, positioning Richie's hands over his head. "That’s cute." He picks up his phone from the bedside table, opens the camera app, and presses record. Redness spreads from Richie’s cheeks all the way down to his collarbones and Eddie just grins, forcing him to sit through the discomfort. He slides the length of his dick against Richie’s chest, watching through the screen how he writhes. When Richie opens his mouth to speak, Eddie takes the opportunity to spit into again. If Eddie were to keep going, watching the yearning in Richie’s bright eyes grow, he just might come like this. The thought of coming, and leaving Richie hard and begging crosses his mind, but he shelves it for another day. 

After a full, silent minute, Eddie stops recording and turns the phone so Richie can see the screen. "Can you see that? How pathetic you look?" Richie watches, wide-eyed and quiet.

As he sets the phone aside, Richie speaks up, weakly. "I need-" 

“No.” Eddie grabs a handful of Richie’s hair and tugs, earning a quiet ‘ah’ from Richie’s lips. He earns another surprised squeak when he lightly smacks a hand to Richie's face. Richie licks his lips, and Eddie can see how hard it is for him to stay quiet. Eddie gives him two more light slaps, one on each cheek and climbs off of him. 

He gets back between Richie’s legs and presses into him again, slowly, keeping a leisurely pace, pulling out completely each time so Richie can feel every hard inch of him. He puts one hand in his hair, knuckles against his scalp, and the other gives him another controlled slap, firmer than before. Richie’s bottom lip trembles and he swallows hard, whimpering. Eddie slows down even more, and it takes so much effort that sweat starts to bead on his forehead. He’s buzzing, bringing his hand up to slap Richie one more time. Richie gasps and finally, the dam breaks. Tears start to fall and with quick, hushed gasps, Richie drops his shaky hands to cover his face. Eddie takes his hands, holding both of them tight against his chest so he can clearly see the tears rolling down Richie’s cheeks.

He’s relentless as he drives into Richie harder and faster, nearly shaking with the sudden rush of endorphins. “Wanna see your pretty face while you cry for me. Look at all those tears—is it too much?” Richie answers right away, shaking his head. “I didn’t think so. This feels good to you, when I’m rough, when you’re raw and shaking, taking my cock like the dirty whore you are.” 

Eddie sits up, his head spinning, and slides a hand under Richie’s thigh. He hoists the leg up onto his shoulder and Richie’s jaw drops at the change in angle. Before he can get a full moan out, Eddie sticks three fingers in Richie’s mouth, pressing against his tongue. “Shh, shut up, shut the fuck up. You’re so fucking desperate and needy for my dick.” 

Richie bunches the sheets in his fists and breathes hotly around Eddie's fingers. He's beautiful like this, tear-streaked and shaking, with his mouth full. Eddie's heart pounds in his chest, fast and erratic and he knows he isn't going to last much longer. “I want to fill you up, want you dripping and messy. And you want that too, I can tell by the way your dick is leaking at the thought of it. You’re nothing but a cumslut, aren't you? Tell me how much of a cumslut you are, let me hear it.” Eddie takes his fingers out of Richie’s mouth, letting him speak. 

“I am, I am. Please, Eddie. I need it. I want it.” 

Eddie just smirks, opens Richie's legs wider, and says, "No." Richie pouts, clenching his jaw to keep it from trembling. 

“I know how bad you want it, you fucking cumslut. But, why should I?” Eddie asks, dizzy with adrenaline. “So _you_ can get off?” 

Richie nods, rolling his hips in messy circles. His eyes are shining, quietly begging.

“Shit, look at you, you nasty fucking slut, trying to fuck yourself on my cock." Eddie hitches Richie's knees up near his armpits, fucking him deeper, with even more intent. "You need it that bad, huh?” 

Richie nods again, eagerly, and closes his eyes.

Eddie brings a hand to Richie's jaw, forcing eye contact. “Beg.” 

"I w-want you to f-fill me up…," Richie stutters, letting out a shaky breath. "I want you to fill me up…It's so hot, I need it so much, please. I want to-" 

“God, you’re such a fucking whore for me," Eddie says, his voice strained. He's about ready to explode, but he wants to push it just a little longer, just to hear Richie fall apart. Eddie slows down, feeling the heat inside himself build, and speaks against Richie's open mouth. “A filthy fucking pervert.”

"I am, I'm yours," Richie moans. "I'm yours, fuck-" 

Everything goes white when Eddie comes, but he keeps moving, making a mess between Richie’s legs. When he feels his cum dripping from Richie’s hole, down the length of his dick, he literally gets hot flashes. Suddenly, he understands the appeal of wanting to feel dirty.

Running on lust and fumes, and trembling just as much as Richie, Eddie rolls Richie onto his side and slots his half hard dick against Richie's ass. He slides his hands up his sweaty chest, squeezes his thigh, pulls his hair, and kisses his shoulders. Before he knows it, he's stifling a cry in the crook of Richie’s neck and coming for the third time tonight. It almost hurts at this point— he’s pushing his body to the absolute limit, but the pleasurable rush outweighs any discomfort.

Pliant and easy, Richie rolls over to face Eddie. "Please," he rasps, his eyes fluttering closed. 

"Look at me, baby," Eddie cups his cheek, wiping his tears. "Tell me what you want." 

Richie just fixes his bright, glassy eyes on him, letting Eddie support the weight of his head. Eddie kisses his forehead and asks, "Do you want me to touch you?"

"Mhmm." 

Finally, Eddie wraps a hand around Richie's hot, leaking dick, swiping a thumb over the wet head. He hooks Richie’s leg up over his, and brings one hand behind him to press a lazy fingertip to his sensitive hole. "So wet and open, just for me," Eddie whispers, and Richie falls apart.

He clings to Eddie, thrusting into his fist, convulsing, groaning, whining low in his throat. Eddie looks into his eyes, waiting. "Do you want me to stop?" 

Still twitching, he begins to rut against Eddie's thigh. "Never." 

Eddie kisses him deeply, sucking on his lip and tongue, licking up his sweaty neck, grabbing his ass, sliding his thigh against Richie's dick. Richie lets Eddie overwhelm him, barely making a sound, and Eddie doesn’t stop until Richie is completely limp in his arms.

"You okay?" Eddie asks, pulling back to look at him.

Richie gives him a small, dopey smile and nods, burying his face in Eddie's chest. Eddie smiles and holds him close, stroking a hand down his back. “You’re so good baby, I love you.”

“You owe me a bubble bath,” Richie mumbles, after a while. “When I can feel my legs again.”

Before Eddie gets too comfortable lying in their mix of tears, sweat, and cum, he rolls out of bed, helping Richie up as he does. He strips the sheets and as promised, he runs a bath for Richie with an excessive amount of bubbles. Richie fits himself into the too-small bathtub, sinking as much as he can into the bubbles. Eddie sits at the edge of the tub and washes Richie’s hair, massaging his scalp. 

“I love you,” Richie says, taking Eddie’s hand. A mischievous grin spreads across his face and before Eddie can question it, Richie pulls him into the tub. 

“I can’t fit in here with you,” Eddie protests, attempting to wiggle out of Richie’s arms. He’s too weak and worn out to fight for too long, so he just eases into Richie’s lap and leans his back against Richie’s chest. “Fine. Make room, you goddamn giant.”

Richie places a gentle kiss to Eddie’s neck. “You love me.”

“I do love you.” Eddie closes his eyes, letting Richie wrap both arms around his waist, and settles into the warm water. “And I’m so fucking lucky to have you.”

**Author's Note:**

> [aggressively radiates top energy]
> 
> anyway, I'm on twitter as curiousair
> 
> also, i'm thinking about doing a smut series featuring the eddie and richie from this universe, but I write really slow so don't hold your breath.


End file.
